


Before the Storm

by shambhalala



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 02:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shambhalala/pseuds/shambhalala
Summary: Varya Lavellan reflects on her time with the Inquisition before facing Corypheus.





	Before the Storm

_Dragon Age_ :  _Inquisition has pretty much consumed my being over the last two weeks_ ,  _which I_ ’ _m more than okay with_. _I couldn_ ’ _t resist writing this angsty one_ - _shot of my Dalish Inquisitor_ , _[Varya](https://shambhalala.tumblr.com/post/179294918520/introducing-my-inquisitor-varya-lavellan-i-love#notes)_ , _and her love_ , _Cullen Rutherford_. _Spoilers for Dragon Age_ : _Inquisition ahead_. _Enjoy_!

[_Varya also has a playlist_!](https://open.spotify.com/user/psthg5ruviz4yhleg0olnuazt/playlist/6CbSX1XYDS7QwQ3wGOA1PG?si=X0PQkOi-Qv27rBZi3o_NYQ)

Also: big thanks to my lovely friends [@historyofamanda](https://historyofamanda.tumblr.com/), [@reservedravens](https://reservedravens.tumblr.com/), and [@onespoongirl](https://onespoongirl.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr with this, you guys are the best!

Warnings: mild cursing, emotional distress.

Word count: 4,543

Songs that helped me write this:

[‘Shrike’ by Hozier](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DEWLqdAJbu0A&t=MDIzOTQ3MGRkODUxZjU0OTA5OGJiMGQzNWYxYjA1Yzk3YzYzNDVjYyxqT09Ra3FsdA%3D%3D&b=t%3AvEzjnUsPVf7CDJsQNwyfnw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fshambhalala.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F179325002760%2Fbefore-the-storm-cullen-rutherford-x-inquisitor&m=1)

[‘Penguin’ by Christina Perri](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DCzTFqKc5hT4&t=OTZjYmQ5ZmUzYWJiYmU0ZTJjMzc4NTllZTUwOTQzZTU1NWU2ZDU4NSxqT09Ra3FsdA%3D%3D&b=t%3AvEzjnUsPVf7CDJsQNwyfnw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fshambhalala.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F179325002760%2Fbefore-the-storm-cullen-rutherford-x-inquisitor&m=1)

* * *

She had returned to Skyhold through a mirror.

Or so those were the whispers that had swiftly spread throughout the entire castle. No one had expected it, but the unmistakable clash from the seldom used room near Skyhold’s garden was answer enough.

Dorian, Sera, and Blackwall had stumbled back to their quarters like heroes, weary but hopeful. Morrigan and the Inquisitor herself, Varya Lavellan, marched straight to the war room to plan out their next steps with Spymaster Leliana, Ambassador Josephine, and Commander Cullen. With the Well of Sorrows firmly in Morrigan’s grasp, there was no time to waste in preparing for Corypheus’s swift vengeance. Maker knows it would come sooner than any of them desired.

An hour passed, and a plan was formed. Morrigan’s acquired knowledge from the well made formulating their attack much easier; summon Mythal in the Arbor Wilds, and she would grant them the powers necessary to defeat Corypheus and his red lyrium dragon. It sounded so simple, but they all knew this would be no easy victory.

They disbanded shortly after. With the remainder of the day in front of her, Varya intended to spend her time with those dearest to her. All eyes followed her as she walked around Skyhold with utmost poise, though few of the castle’s population feared her anymore. Despite being the Inquisitor, and the alleged Herald of Andraste, Varya brought an air of serenity with her everywhere she went, though she seemed oblivious of the calming effect she had on people. Maybe it was her humble Dalish upbringing, or the company she kept that made her light-hearted and modest. Regardless, she was a formidable warrior to her enemies, but a gentle, noble woman to her friends. Her hair was as fiery and red as the determination that drove her, but her eyes were a crystal grey, capable of easing the weight of one’s burdens with a single glance.

Needless to say, Varya had quickly captured the attention of Commander Cullen. The troubled man was knocked off his feet by the wave of emotions he felt for the Inquisitor. It pained him every time she was sent to fight, despite knowing she was a force to be reckoned with. Her remarkable calming aura stirred in him something that he had never felt before, and he found himself red-faced and flustered whenever she smiled at him, and lost for words when she expressed her gratitude towards him time and time again. When the time came and she returned his feelings, he couldn’t believe his luck. Their relationship blossomed from then on, and it showed in both of them. Despite the endless teasing from their friends and fellow advisors, none of them could deny that they shared in their happiness. With all that was going on in the outside world, to see love prevailing during difficult times was a welcome sight. Skyhold may be their home, but Varya and Cullen found that their true homes were in each other’s hearts all along.

And so, with her mind calm and clear despite all she had yet to face, Varya wandered the castle. She hadn’t failed to notice Cullen’s quick departure from the war room, nor the concerned frown on his face. She decided to give him some time alone before seeking him out, as much as her heart yearned to be in his arms again. Up the winding stairs she went to Skyhold’s library, not without being stopped by Solas, who tore himself away from his studies to thank her and express his admiration for all she had done.

“You make it sound like you’re leaving,” she quipped with a smile, but the thought made her chest sting. She had known Solas since that fateful day when she first sealed the rift at the temple, and he had shared much with her about his studies of The Fade.  _Was_  he leaving?

“I suppose I do not know yet, but I will remain here for the time being for my studies. Thank you, Inquisitor.”

His answer was not satisfying, but Varya knew there was no use in asking him for more details. She continued up to the library, finding Dorian sitting in his favourite chair by the window, lost in a book until she wandered up to him.

“Good book?”

Normally, Dorian’s eyes would have lit up in delight when he saw her, and he would have wasted no time in making a remark that, from anyone else, would have been more than a tad inappropriate and personal. But today, Dorian’s face was concentrated and serious.

“What happened at the Elven temple… it’s got me thinking. I should go back, shouldn’t I? To Tevinter, once this is done… if we’re still alive.”

Again, Varya’s chest stung at his words, and her heart hammered. Dorian stood up and she swallowed past the small lump in her throat, following his every move as he paced around with purpose. Dorian had become a dear friend to her as the Inquisition continued to grow, and she felt pride swell inside of her as he stated his intention to return to his home and restore some of his people’s forgotten history. But the same thought lingered in her mind, growing louder and louder;  _he was leaving_. She shook the thought away as best as she could and composed herself.

“Someone with your impeccable taste could transform Tevinter.”

“I hope you’re right. You usually are,” he replied. “It might surprise you to know that you’re the one who inspired me.”

He was right; Varya blinked in disbelief. Dorian continued his noble speech, and the pride swelling in her chest continued to grow. Before this moment, she had barely stopped to consider the true weight of her actions, and how they would affect those around her. Her friend was a proud man, and hearing a confession of such sincerity flow so easily, so readily, from him, was evidence enough of her impact. Underneath her feelings of pride, her mind wandered again.

 _He was leaving_.

“Anyway,” Dorian switched to his normal hearty tone, snapping Varya back to attention. “I thought you’d be rushing into the arms of your dear Commander,” he teased.

Composed as she was, the teasing from her dear Tevinter friend always made Varya’s cheeks grow red, a stark contrast to the blue vallaslin that decorated her forehead. Dorian took great delight in this, chuckling softly as he stepped closer to her.

“Cullen seemed like he needed a moment alone,” Varya replied.

Dorian nodded. “Don’t leave him too long though, or he’ll be wandering round with that lost puppy look on his face. He  _always_  does that when you’re gone for too long,” he rolled his eyes with an affectionate smile. “Anyway, was there something you needed?”

Varya shook her head. “No, but thank you, Dorian. For everything.” Her voice was soft, and any cracks that may have shown were quickly covered up by her smile.

Dorian smiled back with a nod. “A pleasure,” he replied, as she turned away and descended the stairs.

Skyhold was always a place of comfort and security for Varya, but now, the stairwell seemed endless, claustrophobic. As soon as she was outside she strode along the battlements to Cullen’s room, only to find he was not there. With a disappointed sigh, she made her way down into the main courtyard, taking slight relief in the gentle afternoon breeze. Her love may still need some space, she thought. She squashed down the growing burdens in her mind, entering Herald’s Rest.

The tavern was filled with chatter and soft music, as its patrons surrounded themselves with drinks, either happy to be drinking or trying to drown out their worries about the upcoming battle. Varya continued her wander, her heart growing lighter at Iron Bull’s encouraging words of solidarity. However, this feeling was diminished when she reached a rather hysterical Sera, who had grown anxious and uncertain about her beliefs. She decided to take out her frustrations by stomping back and forth in the corner room of the tavern that she had decorated as her own, ranting in colourful language.

“There can’t be a bunch of gods  _and_  the Maker. Don’t matter how much or little you believe, those don’t fit,” she declared, but she fiddled with her hands, unsure of herself.

Varya sighed. Yet another burden she could not escape; the origins of her faith, and where she stood now. Truthfully, she didn’t know  _what_  to believe, but she knew there was at least some morsel of truth in what Abelas and the ancient elves had said, which only complicated matters in her mind. But this confession offered Sera little comfort.

“No, now you’re stupid. You  _can’t_  think that because it’s stupid,” Sera whined.

“But everything we saw-”

“Why believe it? Because Abelas looked weird? If that’s all it takes, Coryphy-shitheel is full of lumpy truth,” Sera’s words were cutting, final, and they rendered Varya silent. She didn’t want to lose her friend over something as subjective as faith, but she felt as if she were treading on thin ice. Sera continued her spiel and Varya stood wordlessly, feeling her delicate demeanour starting to crack from within. The breeze flowing into the room was suddenly chilling, and it jostled the curtains and made her shiver.

“Anyway, believe what you want, so long as we kill Coryphy-fish. Whatever,” Sera sighed, turning away to slump on the window ledge, casting a sorrowful gaze upon the outside world.

Varya was still lost for words. Sera was stubborn and scared, so there was little use in trying to reason with her when their future was still hanging by a thread. She took her leave, ascending to the top floor of the tavern where Cole stood alone in a corner. Her movements were slow as she contemplated Sera’s remarks;  _she’ll probably leave too, or decorate my quarters with arrows,_ she thought. It made her heart sink further.

Cole sensed her presence without needing to look up. Despite now being more human than spirit, he could still sense her mind’s state. He bore deeper into her head as she stepped closer, seeing past the thin smile that graced her face.

“You are troubled,” he stated.

Varya knew there was little use in trying to hide the worries that were piling up in her mind from Cole. She nodded with a gentle sigh, scratching the back of her head and looking down.

“A chilling wind on a warm summer day. A warning, of what is to come, but not all is bad. Your temperament wavers like a dying flame, but you are strong. Still, you have hope,” Cole’s voice was gentle and whispery as always.

“You’re quite correct, Cole,” Varya responded, smiling at him. Whilst most of the Inquisition feared Cole’s abilities and disliked having their souls looked into by someone, or something, they did not understand, Varya took comfort in knowing that her troubles did not remain entirely unseen.

“How are you feeling? Now that you’re more human?” she asked him.

“I am feeling many things. Some are good, others are bad. Currently I am feeling… gratitude. Hope. Courage. And something…”

Cole’s stomach gurgled, startling them both.

“Ah, yes. Hunger,” he smiled. Varya couldn’t stop the laughter that erupted from her chest, and Cole joined her, his face lighting up in the most animated grin she had ever seen on him.

As their laughter died down, Cole’s expression faded, and he closed his eyes.

“He prays for you,” he whispered.

Varya blinked in surprise, her eyebrows shooting up. She didn’t need to ask to whom he was referring.

“Intense. Chest burning, heart on fire. Love, with fear. Pain. Faith, as much as you can give me,” he continued, his voice growing desperate at the end of his sentence until his eyes snapped open, and he nodded at Varya.

“You should go to him now.”

Varya felt breathless, her mind racing and heart aching. She pictured Cullen, kneeling, praying, alone, and she was overcome with yearning again. She needed his strength and comfort as she felt hers diminishing.

“D-did I help?” Cole asked, an unusual air of vulnerability to his voice. Varya sometimes had to remind herself that he was still so young.

“Yes, you did. Thank you, Cole. I will speak with you later,” she replied with a gentle smile. Her reply came automatically, and she tried to ignore the fleeting thought that there may not  _be_  a later.

Cole smiled back, relief washing over his face. Varya left the tavern across the battlements, racing through abandoned rooms back to the grand hall. She was stopped twice on her way by Cassandra and Blackwall, both of them voicing their admiration and loyalty to her once more. Though their words were sincere and she appreciated them, they only added to the circle of thoughts swimming in her mind. Everything was suddenly feeling so…  _final_ , and she did not know how to handle it.

Still, she walked, head held high, into Skyhold’s garden. Sure enough, she soon found her love, tucked away in the prayer room. She approached the door, seeing him kneeling before the statue of the Bride of the Maker. Candles burned away on the stone floor, bathing the room in a warm orange light. If circumstances were different, she would have appreciated the room’s tranquillity. For now, she was grateful to see Cullen gaining some comfort in his prayer.

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light, and nothing that he has wrought shall be lost.”

Varya’s chest tightened at his recital.

“A prayer for you?” she asked.

Cullen’s posture relaxed at the gentle sound of her voice.

“For those we have lost. And those I am afraid to lose.”

He wavered on those last words, and Varya’s chest tightened further, a stabbing sensation filling her abdomen.

“You’re afraid?”

“Of course I am!” Cullen’s voice echoed in the small space, but he was not angry. He stood up to face Varya, his features instantly softening at the sight of her grey eyes. Words could not begin to describe how beautiful she was to him. He tore his gaze away in anguish, his voice continuing to waver.

“When the time comes, you will be thrown into his path again. Andraste preserve me, I must send you to him.”

Internally, Varya panicked. She knew Cullen well, and knew how doubt and self-hatred consumed him in moments of weakness. She had been a fool, to think she could seek his comfort and wisdom at a moment like this. She felt selfish. It broke her heart to see him like this, but she needed to remain strong, for his sake.

Their journey to Honnleath flashed through her mind. How blissful she felt, standing in his arms by the lakeside. She channelled that memory, allowing herself to revel in that peaceful moment once more. She remembered the coin he had given her for luck, the one given to him by his brother before he left for Templar training.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I have luck on my side, remember?” she smiled at him. Her ability to remain so collected and positive, even at what may be the end of days, melted his heart every time.

“That’s less comforting than I’d hoped,” he chuckled lightly in response.

In a desperate moment of emotion, they threw their arms around each other. Varya sighed in relief into his firm grasp as he buried his head in her shoulder.

“Whatever happens, you  _will_  come back.” Cullen whispered, almost pleading.

Varya tightened her grasp on his shoulders and swallowed past the lump that continued to grow in her throat.

“Cullen you don’t have to-”

“Allow me this,” he begged.

“The thought of losing you… I can’t.” The words were mostly to himself more than anyone else. His voice was even more desperate than before.

They remained there for several minutes, silently embracing each other. Although neither of them wanted to let go, they both knew they had important matters to attend to before Varya’s departure tomorrow. Slowly, they ghosted their arms down each other’s forms and looked into each other’s eyes. Cullen placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead and they departed, leaving the warm light of the prayer room behind them.

Cullen returned to his room, and Varya to hers. She kept her gaze firmly ahead of her on her way, her lips pressed into a tight line. She ignored Varric’s excited smile at her presence, knowing now that she would find little comfort in talking any longer. She needed solitude.

In her quarters, she paced back and forth, finding herself unable to lie still on her bed or sit comfortably at her desk. The weight of her situation was crushing her, and she found it harder and harder to remain strong. The fate of Thedas rested in her hands, in the power that had been bestowed upon her left one, the power that she never asked for.

She glanced down at the Anchor. It was not currently glowing, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before it illuminated again. She clenched her hand into a fist, as if it would disappear.

She grumbled in frustration and raked her hands through her hair, yanking out her tight ponytail. She stormed to the balcony and gripped the stone railings, casting out her gaze over Skyhold. The sun was gradually starting to set over the mountains in the distance.

What if she failed? She had never had a moment to entertain the thought until now, though truth be told, she was more terrified of what would happen if she succeeded. She had spent the best part of a year in Skyhold, feeling at home, making new friends, falling in love; the thought that all of this may soon come to an end, when Dorian returned to Tevinter, when Blackwall was submitted to the Grey Wardens, if Cassandra or Leliana became the new Divine, was devastating. All of these people were counting on her, looking up to her, but she was terrified of failing them, or letting them go.

 _Falling in love_. Her mind returned to Cullen. His kind smile, the way his eyes softened whenever they were together. The way he danced with her at the Winter Palace, despite his apprehensiveness. Their shared kisses on the battlements when they could spare a moment, though the time was always too short for their liking. The first time they said they loved each other the morning after their love making. She loved him with all her heart, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him alone.

At last, the floodgates of her mind exploded, and she wept.

Several hours passed. The sun was just disappearing behind the mountains as food was brought into the grand hall. Even as everyone sat to eat what little they could stomach, there was not one trace of Varya. Her seat remained empty. Everyone exchanged worried glances, casting their gaze every so often to the door to her quarters.

Josephine was the first to speak up, with a gentle clear of her throat.

“Has anyone seen Var-Lady Inquisitor?” she asked, perusing the table.

Silence, until Varric spoke up.

“She went back to her quarters, and… I don’t think she’s come out yet,” he sighed.

“I see,” Josephine replied, defeated.

“Most unusual,” Dorian mused, stroking his moustache with one hand.

Silence fell over the table again, everyone’s minds swimming with confusion, concern.

Suddenly, Cullen pushed his chair out from underneath him, standing up from the table.

“You gonna talk to her, curly?” Varric asked.

“Of course. I know Varya appreciates her own company wherever she can spare it, but this… this is… worrying,” he trailed off at the end of his sentence, frowning and casting his gaze to her door.

Looks of adoration were cast to the Commander. Hearing her name roll so naturally off his tongue reminded everyone of his love for her, that he was more than the Inquisition’s hardened Commander.

Cullen walked away, taking purposeful steps towards the door before disappearing behind it. All eyes followed him.

“I don’t suspect we’ll be seeing him again tonight,” Dorian remarked.

Josephine gasped in shock, glaring daggers at him for making such a comment. Dorian merely grinned back with one eyebrow cocked. Sera spluttered on her drink, and Dorian sat back in his seat with a smug laugh, crossing one leg over the other and intertwining his hands on his lap. The rest of the table couldn’t help but smile a little, and even Josephine covered her mouth to supress a small giggle. The mood was significantly less sombre now that they knew their Inquisitor wasn’t alone for the night.

Cullen treaded lightly up the stairs to Varya’s quarters. The room was quiet when he reached the top, the only sound coming from the crackling logs in the fireplace as the flames died down. The last of the sun’s rays shone in through the far balcony, casting long golden shadows along the floor. Her bed was neat, untouched, as was the desk.

“Varya, love?” Cullen called as he stepped further into the room. Silence.

Then, he heard a soft sound from outside, to his right. He snapped his head towards it. Was it… it sounded like… crying?

Cullen’s breath ceased. He stepped silently towards the balcony, almost afraid of the sight that awaited him.

Sure enough, there she was. Varya stood facing away from him, looking out towards the magnificent mountains in the distance. The setting sun illuminated her small figure, giving her an ethereal glow. Her hair hung low, just past her shoulders, and it danced gently in the breeze.

 _Maker’s breath_ , Cullen thought. As if she wasn’t stunning enough already. But he knew this was no time for gazing lovingly, not yet.

He removed his gloves and tossed them onto the desk, stepping out onto the balcony. He stood just behind her, and placed a gentle arm across her shoulders. He placed his other hand over one of hers. Her iron grip on the railings softened, and she intertwined her fingers with his, stifling a sniffle.

Finally, Varya looked up at him, and Cullen’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Her eyes were sore and red, tears staining her cheeks as she bit her lip to suppress its trembling. In all their shared moments of love, affection, and vulnerability, he had  _never_  seen her so distraught;  _no one_  had.

Without hesitation, Cullen exhaled and pulled her against his chest, wrapping both arms round her protectively. He placed a kiss on the top of her head as she clung to him desperately, shaking as more tears poured from her. It took all of his willpower not to weep with her.

“Forgive me… I am being foolish,” she sighed, trying to steady her quavering voice.

Cullen placed his hands on her face, looking down at her and wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“I highly doubt that, my love,” he replied, offering a small smile, which she returned. His heart continued to break as more tears welled in her eyes, but he persevered.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

Varya sighed and closed her eyes, turning back to the mountains. Cullen loosened his embrace but still held one of her hands firmly. She opened her eyes again and looked down at their entwined grasp, blinking to stem further tears.

“It’s just…” she began. She glanced back at him with a pained smile. Even as she was at her lowest, most vulnerable moment, she still tried to hold up the illusion that she was okay. It pained Cullen to wonder how long she had been feeling like this. He stayed silent, rubbing circles on her hand with his thumb, until she was ready to speak again.

“I… I find myself thinking that time has passed all too quickly,” she explained.

“How do you mean?” Cullen asked.

“It…” she stopped, a brief smile flashing across her face before she crumpled in sorrow again. “It seems like only yesterday that we were playing chess together in the garden, and now… I must face Corypheus. Cullen, I feel cheated. No time with you has ever felt like enough.”

Cullen exhaled softly, closing his eyes. He knew how she felt, because he felt exactly the same way.

“And Dorian plans to return to Tevinter. Sera will probably leave too. And Solas. Cassandra. Blackwall. And that’s assuming we make it out alive,” the words tumbled out of her, ending in another choked sob.

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut tighter, shifting to hold her once more and willing himself not to cry. He didn’t even want to imagine the devastation he would feel if she didn’t return.

“Varya…” he began, weaving a hand into her hair. He didn’t know if there was anything he could say to truly comfort her, but he had to try.

“I… do not know what this battle will bring,” he confessed. She stood silent in his arms, her breathing steadier as he stroked his hand through her hair again and again.

“But I know that we will do all we can to aid you. Please, love, do not bear this burden alone any longer. Not when you do not have to,” he kissed her head again, swaying them from side to side.

“But…” Varya hesitated. Her voice had grown raspy now after all her tears, and she stopped to clear her throat.

“You are a strong, remarkable fighter, and I have full faith in you, but the Inquisition is not your burden alone. We will all stand ready to aid you, for anything,” Cullen continued before Varya could doubt herself any further.

Varya looked up at her love again. Although her eyes were still red, they appeared much less tortured than before. She smiled at Cullen, and he smiled back at her, his heart still healing from seeing her so distressed.

“Please… forgive me if I have worsened the burdens you feel,” he mumbled, frowning slightly.

Varya shook her head, placing a hand upon his stubbled cheek. “Never,” she insisted, her smile widening. “You give me more strength than you can ever know.”

“And you to me,” Cullen replied. He leaned down and captured her lips with his, a tender gesture that melted away their worries for the time being. Their hearts beat in unison as they savoured each other, their burdens lightening by the second and scattering into the wind.

They pulled apart, faces still mere inches from each other.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” Cullen whispered.

Varya’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. “When did you-”

“Let’s just say I sought the advice of our Elven mage friend,” Cullen chuckled.

“Well, I could have guessed it wasn’t from Sera,” she laughed.

They kissed once more and turned to gaze at the mountains together as the sky finally darkened. Although there was much turmoil yet to face, Varya no longer felt as if the world rested solely on her shoulders. She sighed and pressed her head against Cullen’s chest, safe, and happy, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I have more plans to write for Varya and Cullen post-Trespasser, but in the meantime, this one-shot was demanding to be written. I hope you all enjoyed it!  
> Follow me on Tumblr! - https://shambhalala.tumblr.com/


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